Poison Princess

After Matthew’s rescue, we’d decided to go north into Tennessee before heading east to North Carolina. Backtracking south along the same desolate—and supply-free—highway in Alabama wasn’t an option.

We had only a few energy bars left between us. Water was getting scarce.

Though we had officially deviated from that big army’s swath of destruction, we still hadn’t found any food in this area.

What had we found? More Bagmen. We’d see them crawling along the side of the road, reaching for our van.

“We can always use the gas from the bikes,” Selena suggested.

Jackson shook his head. “Wouldn’t get us ten miles in this thing. Besides, we got to conserve those tanks.”

I noted the tense set of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. He was weighed down with so much responsibility. I wished I could help in some way. I might not be able to—but Matthew could.

As Jackson and Selena debated routes, I rearranged our box of weapons and empty gallon jugs in the back so I could lay out my sleeping bag next to Matthew’s. I dropped down beside him, curling up for warmth. The back of the van was drafty.

We faced each other, whisper-distance away. “Matthew, talk to me,” I murmured. “Are we going the right way? Will we find food soon? Give me something we can use.”

Jackson and Selena had no idea what kind of resource they possessed, still treating him like an idiot.

Like a fool.

Matthew glared. “They don’t deserve it,” he snapped under his breath, sounding more like a sixteen-year-old boy than a visionary. Then he started back up with the Star Wars theme.

Whistling sucked.

And there went Selena, turning on that grating industrial rock. He whistled louder; Selena cranked the volume.

If there were any more tension in this van, it would explode. The four of us had about hit our limit of each other.

Jackson had taken an instant dislike to Matthew, scowling whenever the boy clasped my hand in his as we walked, calling him bon à rien at every opportunity.

On the surface, Selena appeared to ignore Matthew completely, but when she thought no one was watching, she studied the boy with an alarming intensity.

The vision Matthew had sent me of her still gave me chills. But he didn’t seem to fear her in the least, which made me feel better.

I’d forced myself to put all my worry—and jealousy—over Jackson and Selena on the back burner, focusing my attention on Matthew. I believed he was without continuous care for the first time in his life—and he was struggling.

Most of the time, he didn’t appear to be experiencing our reality. He talked to himself, giving a stray laugh here and there. He slept fitfully, no doubt overwhelmed with those visions of his.

He’d shown me one battle. I’d never asked for a repeat.

Whenever we could talk without Jackson and Selena overhearing, I’d been delving about the Arcana. I’d found out that the Fool could see not only the futures of others but also their pasts and presents. I’d learned that there were many more kids like us. But not what our purpose was.

If we were all in some kind of war with alliances and battles, then what had started the fight? I knew this was life-or-death—I’d seen Calanthe beheaded—but had other kids already died?

Had Joules and Gabriel survived that night?

Basically, Matthew had revealed just enough information to make me want to pull my hair out. A typical conversation:

“How many Arcana are there?”

“Cards?”

“Yes, cards.”

A firm nod. “Arcana.”

“Okay, then. So what came first—the kids or the cards?”

His answer: “Gods.”

I could almost think he was doing it on purpose just to frustrate me, except that he got exasperated with me—as if he were trying to teach me a new language and I kept forgetting how to say “the.”

I reached for his forehead now, smoothing away that mop of hair. “Matthew, let’s hold off on the whistling for a bit.”

He drew a deeper breath, his expression defiant.

“Pretty please?”

He glowered, but did go quiet.

A relief. Ideally, I wanted us to be so quiet that Jackson and Selena forgot we were here.

“Empress fears Dee-vee-oh and Luna will throw me away.”

“What? No way.” I might have had a brief worry a couple of days ago when I’d heard Jackson tell Selena, “That boy can’t fight, hunt, keep watch—or shut up. He’s a resource-suck.” Just what he called me. “He’s always hungry. We’re burning through any food we find.”

Selena had replied, “But Evie likes him so much, J.D. Surely you can see how strongly she feels about him.”

My attachment to Matthew wasn’t like that at all—and she knew it—but I couldn’t contradict her without outing myself as an eavesdropper.

Then Selena had added, “Why don’t you tell her that we’ll keep him along, but only if she agrees to head back to my place. Otherwise, we’ll be forced to cut the deadweight.”

Selena, you snake in the ash.

Yet Jackson had told her, “I’ll think about it.” How much sway did she hold over him?

Deciding there was no chance the two up front could hear us over that music, I whispered, “Matthew, can Selena literally bring doubt?”

“She’s the Moon.” He began staring at one of his hands, turning it this way and that, seeming to examine every contour. Which usually meant he was done with a subject.

I’d asked him if Jackson had been with Selena—and I’d received the same response. I still couldn’t tell if they had. The two of them got along great, but never betrayed that anything deeper was at work.

At least Jackson didn’t. Selena was clearly head over heels for him.

She might not be the only one.

If I could find out for certain that he wanted more from me, and that he hadn’t slept with our constant traveling companion, I’d tell him that I was falling for him. . . .

Now Matthew gave me a disappointed look. “Empress lies about them throwing me away.”

I exhaled. “I’d never let anything happen to you. If they toss you out, I’ll go with.”

I’d told Jackson as much. Big mistake.

Yesterday, in one of the rare moments when both Matthew and the clinging Selena had been out of earshot, Jackson had gruffly muttered to me, “Do you think that boy can take care of you? Can protect you on the road?”

I’d blinked in confusion. “Uh, will he need to?” Then doubts had arisen. “Ohh, I see how it is. The tribe has spoken. You and Selena are going to lighten the load. Will you at least give me notice so we can be ready?”

Jackson had drawn his head back, his jaw muscles bulging. “You believe I’d abandon you?”

“I might have accidentally overheard you and Selena talking. You called Matthew a resource-suck, said he was burning through the food.” Would Jackson look at Matthew through “greater good” glasses? Especially with Selena’s influence and doubt-mongering?

“That’s fact,” Jackson had said. “Something I tend to consider in decision-making.”